Skyway Below the Clouds
BY CARL R. MARKWITH
Illustrations by National Geographic Photographer Ernest J. Cottrell
THE DEDICATION of Skyway 1 as
the Wright Way, in honor of the Wright
brothers, opened a door long closed to
the average amateur flyer. Planned especially
for the use of private planes, the new route,
when completed, will so simplify navigation
that any careful amateur can fly it with safety.
As one of those amateur flyers, I saw in
the Wright Way a chance to use my GI flight
training. Six weeks after its dedication I
started a round-trip flight over the route in
a personal plane.
With me went National Geographic Society
staff photographer Ernest J. Cottrell, who
was even more of an amateur than I. I had
a Private Pilot Certificate and had flown 175
hours in small airplanes. Ernie got his Stu
dent Pilot Certificate a few days before we
took off, and did not fly solo until after we
returned.
Some of our flying friends implied that we
were not amateurs but professionals-profes
sional dodos. We couldn't blame them, for
our transcontinental flight took off on a train
to Wichita, Kansas.
In Wichita I began to believe that I should
have stayed a dodo, and at home. The man
sized wind blowing down the runway at Cessna
Aircraft Field was more than I had bargained
for. The company pilots laughed about my
eastern caution and insisted that in Kansas
they just ignored it.
Regional sales manager "Dutch" Dutton
introduced me to Cessna 41692, the four-place
airplane loaned by Cessna Aircraft Company
for the trip.
The 692 was a perfect lady. She forgave
my clumsy efforts to take off and land, and
in the air was a far better flyer than I. She
and Dutch soon taught me to handle her and
the wind safely, if not always gracefully.
Stowing Baggage a Problem
Stowing our 300 pounds of baggage looked
like an easy job. Weight had to be distributed
to keep the ship in trim in the air; but there
was plenty of room and spare load capacity.
Parachutes, cameras, film, emergency kit, brief
case, and personal gear all had to be stowed
to be available when needed.
By the time they were all in place, Ernie
was wondering aloud if I really had to have 13
pounds of maps; and I was sure he had at least
twice as much film as he could use. We were
still rearranging the load when we returned to
Wichita seven weeks later.
The airways weather forecaster assured us
that the weather was VFR (visual flight rules,
as distinguished from IFR, or instrument
flight rules), and provided wind directions
and velocities above the surface. We selected
a cruising altitude where there would be a
helping wind and took off for Tulsa, Okla
homa. At that point we should come onto
Skyway 1-N, the northern section of the
Wright Way.
No Route Signs Aloft
The moment we cleared Wichita we were
out on an unmarked highway. It was like
driving a car on a secondary highway having
no route, direction, or distance signs. The
third dimension of altitude, changeable wind
drift, and the lack of cloud-borne filling sta
tions complicated matters.
I'd allowed for altitude and wind drift in
the flight plan and had studied the course laid
out on my chart. Stopping for directions was
out of the question; so every 10 minutes or
so I had to identify on the ground a check
point previously selected on the chart.
Miss more than one of those check points
and we'd be lost. If weather turned bad ahead
and we wanted to land, we'd suddenly realize
that we had no idea of the location of the
nearest airport. Turning back would be
equally hopeless; for unless we knew where
we were, "back" could be anywhere.
The squared-off section lines of the Kansas
plains gave the country a checkerboard ap
pearance, beautiful to look at but confusing
to navigation. Until I learned to use the
section lines on a diagonal course, I depended
for check points on towns, rivers, and rail
roads.
Suddenly the checkerboard orderliness
ended, and we knew we had crossed the State
line into Oklahoma.* When Tulsa appeared
on the horizon, we neglected the charts and
compass to enjoy the scenery.
The tower operator at Tulsa Municipal Air
port didn't know it, but he started an argu
ment when he reported a ground wind of 45
miles an hour, several miles faster than our
*See,
in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE:
"Speaking of Kansas," August, 1937, and "So Okla
homa Grew Up," March, 1941, both by Frederick
Simpich.